Holding On
by Roxy Rosee
Summary: When Randall disappears from the barn back at the farm, Shane disappears right along with him. Rick puts off searching for him, then once the herd shows up, forgets about Shane entirely. They settle at the prison, and months later, Daryl stumbles onto a delirious and beaten Shane while out on a hunt. It's only they that they realize Shane's disappearance may not have been by choice
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

When Daryl first spots him, it's on one of the few runs he'd elected to take on his own. He'd only just started to acclimate to all the people at the prison, milling around and staring at him like the sun shines out his ass. It made him uneasy, at best. Stir crazy more often than not. So when he'd pulled Rick aside and proposed heading out on his own for a couple of days, the ex-Sheriff had clapped him on the shoulder and told him to go right ahead.

Daryl doesn't recognize him, at first. He's grown a beard, and his hair isn't cropped short anymore. There are deep bruises circling around both his wrists, and his neck. The kind from repeated injury, doled out with slow, ceaseless precision. His walk has changed, too. Every step seems uncertain, like he isn't so sure he'll find solid ground. Daryl follows him for a while before deciding his next move. During that time, he sees the man's hand twitch towards his knife at the smallest noises, repetitively, like a tic.

It isn't until the man Daryl is following raises a hand up and rubs his head rapidly that the younger Dixon finally puts it together.

"Shane?"

Shane whips around and draws his knife, slashing it out in front of him as if he'd expected the source of the noise to be much closer than it actually was. And even though a part of Daryl's mind screams in protest, he doesn't draw his bow. Instead, he sets it down on the ground slowly, and notes that Shane's hand is shaking. Hard.

"Hey, man, ain't lookin' to start somethin'..."

"I don't have any food," Shane says, "And this knife's the only weapon I got. Find someone else to rob."

Daryl frowns at him. "Man, I don't want none of that-"

"Oh, is that right?" Shane spits back. "You want somethin' else, then, huh? Well I'm not gonna give it to you. I'll fuckin' kill you first."

Daryl doesn't chance taking a step closer. "Shane, what are you talkin' about?"

"Don't call me that!" Shane shouts. He starts pacing across the forest floor. "Don't. Don't. I don't believe you- I- _no-_ "

Shane is panicked, unstable. From the look of him, he's also sporting a couple broken ribs. There is blood dried onto his shirt and pants. Fresh, to Daryl's eye. It's a hair-trigger scenario, so the archer takes to it the same way he'd take to soothing a wounded animal.

"Alright, I won't call you that, then," Daryl says. He keeps his voice low and even, his hands close to his sides. "My name's Daryl. That ring any bells?"

That makes Shane stop in his tracks. "No," Shane whispers. "You're not. You're- you're lying. I can't-" He cuts himself off again and curls in on himself, hunching towards the ground.

There's an impasse if Daryl has ever heard one. He tries a different route.

"When's the last time you had something to drink?" Daryl asks. "Some food?"

Shane looks up at him then, and his eyes are wide and scared and the lightest brown Daryl's ever seen them. As Daryl watches, his expression shifts from angry confusion to something much sadder.

"I don't know," Shane says.

"There's a river maybe a half-mile due east of here," Daryl tells him. "Why don't we head over there together?"

And for however lost Shane looks, for however hopeless he feels, he still nods. They walk to the river together, with Daryl keeping Shane carefully in his periphery. He watches as Shane crouches in the mud and downs large gulps of water from his hands. Daryl stops Shane twice, forcing him to go slower to keep from getting sick.

Afterwards, Shane eyes Daryl warily, but his shoulders are slumping and his chin keeps dipping towards his chest. He's exhausted, Daryl realizes belatedly, maybe hasn't slept in days.

"We don't need to go anywhere," Daryl says, "We can stay right here. I'll keep watch."

Shane crawls up the embankment and curls into a ball under the shade of a thick thatch of trees. He's asleep in seconds, and Daryl keeps his word.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

When Shane wakes up several hours later, his eyes have changed again. Now, they're a lot closer to the color that Daryl remembers. Lucid, too, and fixed on him.

"Daryl?" is the first word out of Shane's mouth.

"Yeah. It's me."

Shane sits up slowly. "You're alone?"

"Out here, yeah. But we found a place, someplace to settle down for the long haul. The rest of us are back there."

Shane doesn't look much like he wants to say the next word, but he spits it out anyways.

"Rick?"

Daryl grunts the affirmative, then adds, "Still kickin'."

And Shane flinches like he'd been struck. "You ought to get back to them, then."

"Shane…"

"They'll be wondering where you are," Shane says, "Probably already sent out a search party for you." He laughs, humorlessly, and runs a hand through his hair.

"I can't just leave ya out here," Daryl replies.

"Why not? Y'all already did it once."

"We didn't know where you were," Daryl argues, "Didn't even have a place to start lookin'. You were gone, Randall, and then this herd blew through like the fuckin' plague and we couldn't stay, man. Just couldn't-"

"You didn't look," Shane cuts him off. "I was doing it for you people. Keeping you safe, and you couldn't even look. Not for one goddamn hour." Shane's breathing has gone ragged, and Daryl notices him picking compulsively at the frayed edge of his shirt.

"What were you doing for us?"

"Those men, Randall's group, they were right at our goddamn doorstep. And Rick, Rick wouldn't do fuck all about it. 'Course he wouldn't. Fuckin' golden boy, always acting like doing the right thing is some kinda free pass. But I wasn't gonna let them roll up on us like that. I couldn't."

"So you let Randall go," Daryl says.

Shane's eyebrows quirk in surprise, but he nods. "Told him I was lookin' to join up with a new group. Had him lead me to them."

"But it didn't go down the way you wanted," Daryl presses.

Shane shakes his head. His eyes are glassy, and Daryl isn't sure how much of Shane's consciousness is really present right now.

"Randall tipped them off," Shane says, "A signal. Something. I still don't know how."

"And that's where you've been, all this time?"

Shane's whole body jerks, like he's surfacing from a nightmare. His eyes dart around wildly, and he closes his fist around the hilt of his knife.

"You need to go," Shane says, "You need to go. I don't want you here."

He's on his feet and before Daryl can talk him out of it, Shane's stumbling and veering blindly into the woods. Daryl knows a panic attack when he sees one, and he's fairly sure that Shane won't get far on his own. Still, tracking him would be a pain in the ass. Not to mention risky if the older man managed to stumble onto some walkers.

Daryl shoulders his crossbow and palms a large rock up off of the ground. He slides into place behind Shane and brings the rock down about half as hard as he reasonably can. For the second time that day, Shane is out like a light, and for his own goddamn good. Daryl slings the man over his shoulder, turns on his heel, and heads back towards the prison.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

It occurs to Daryl as the gates are opening that it's a damn good thing Shane isn't conscious at the moment. If he had been, Rick would have shot him for sure. As it is, the man's got his Colt cocked and at the ready, and is stomping forward with the slightly wild look on his face that Daryl had only seen a handful of times before.

"Is that," Rick starts to ask when he's close enough, "Is that...Shane?"

"Found him in the woods," Daryl explains as he heads towards the prison doors, "Didn't even know who I was, at first. Was fuckin' delerious. But once he got his feet under him, he still wouldn't come back with me. Could tell he was hurt, think it's been days since he's slept or eaten. So I knocked him out."

"And you brought him here?" Rick hisses back.

Daryl stops and readjusts his grip on Shane. "He's one of us."

"He was a danger to us all."

"Not anymore. You didn't see him, Rick...the guy's changed. Whatever happened to him out there…"

"Whatever happened could mean he's twice the threat now. We're bringing him into our home blind."

"I couldn't leave him there," Daryl says, "And if you're tryin' to tell me you would have, then we've got bigger problems than him."

That shuts Rick right up, and Daryl refocuses his attention on getting Shane safely inside. He deposits him in a bunk, in a cell far off from the rest of the group. With Rick watching, Daryl makes a show of locking the cell door as he exits.

"Gonna need you to look him over," Daryl says to Hershel, once the older man has joined them. "But we oughta wait 'til he wakes up on his own. He comes to with you pokin' at him, and I don't think he'll react too well."

"Do you have any idea what kind of injuries he has?" Hershel asks.

"Pretty sure he's got some broken ribs. Could tell by the way he was movin'," Daryl says. "He's dehydrated. Probably ain't eaten in a good while either. But that's the least of our worries."

"What do you mean?" Rick asks.

"He told me he let Randall go, back at the farm. Had the kid lead him to that group of his. Planned to take out the threat before they could stumble on us by accident."

"And that's where he's been all this time?" Rick seethes. His voice is sharp and accusatory.

"No. Well, yeah, but...he also said that Randall managed to tip his group off somehow. Don't think they woulda welcomed Shane with open arms, after that."

Rick rubs a hand over his chin. "What...what exactly are you sayin'?"

"You tell me," Daryl says slow, with purpose. "What kind of reason can _you_ think up for a group of guys like that to keep around a man they knew was planning to kill them?"

Rick takes a step away from him then, and suddenly can't seem to stay still.

"No…" he murmurs, "No, no….that can't…"

"You don't have to believe it from me," Daryl says, "Have one conversation with him. You'll see it."

Rick slithers back down the cell block without answering, presumably to tell Carl and the others to steer clear of Shane until they knew more. Of course, Shane chooses that moment to make his presence known. He slams his body against the bars, hard.

"Let me out."

Daryl steps closer to Shane than would seem wise, making sure to catch his gaze. "We will, we will soon, you just gotta let Hershel look you over first."

"I don't wanna be looked over, I wanna _leave_ ," Shane growls. "I told you I wasn't coming back here. I told you."

"Yeah, and I heard you. But you're dehydrated and you're starving and you're fuckin' hurt. How long had it been since you slept, before I found you?" Daryl says. He waits a pointed few seconds, and Shane says nothing. "You don't know the answer. And that's okay, man, really. But if you're so goddamn set on leaving and facing all the shit out there alone, then you can wait a few more days so you don't end up dead as soon as you step foot out those gates."

Shane wilts a little, taken aback by Daryl's intensity.

"I…" Shane croaks. His eyes hit the floor. "Know I can't go out there on my own. Not yet. If you hadn't found me, I probably wouldn't have made it another day. Just...please don't leave me in a cage. I- I can't- can't be locked in here. Just- please, Daryl. Please."

For all the times Daryl had heard Shane speak- at length, obnoxiously, about topics he knew nothing about- he'd never once heard the older man beg. Daryl pulls out the keys and unlocks the cell.

"Gonna trust you not to run off," Daryl says as he steps to the side, allowing Shane to pass into the hallway. "Not to go sniffing around anyone in the group, either."

"I can do that," Shane says listlessly. His eyes remain on the floor, and he misses Daryl's and Hershel's mutual looks of concern..

Footsteps echo from the other end of the cellblock, and Shane's face goes pale just as it jerks up to identify the noise. It takes forever for Rick to reach them, and in that time, Daryl watches Shane edge backwards slowly. Gradually move so that he is partially concealed by Daryl's broad frame.

Rick stops a couple yards away from them. He opens his mouth, but before he can form any words, a baby's cries pierce through the thick silence. They all watch as Beth hurries into the cell farthest from them, listen as she coos to Judith and shushes her gently. On Shane's face, Daryl watches as understanding clicks into place.

Shane looks Rick in the eye, and when he speaks, his voice doesn't waver.

"Where's Lori?"

The answer is clear even before Rick winces and looks away.

"She's...she's dead?" Shane whispers. He takes a faltering step forward. "You son of a bitch. You _let her die_?"

Rick's eyes flick back up. "I didn't let her do anything. The prisoners- the baby- !"

"You had one fucking job to do!" Shane shouts. "Keep your family safe. That's _it_. And you let her die."

"Shane, he didn't-" Hershel tries to intersect, but the ex-cop cuts him off.

"You let her die," Shane says again, "I told you it would happen. Didn't I tell you? Knew you couldn't keep them safe. But all I ever heard was how they were your family, _yours._ So I went off and I did the dirty work. I sacrificed everything, _everything_ , to keep you people safe, and all you had to do was keep her alive, Rick."

Shane's voice cracks at the end, and for the first time in a long time, Rick is speechless. The guilt and anger on Rick's face seem to snap something inside Shane's body, and he finally says the words he'd been desperate not to.

"Did you even look for me?"

Rick lets out a slow breath through his nose. "Shane, a herd came through. There wasn't any time-"

"The herd came through that night," Shane corrects him, "I was gone that morning."

Before he can stop himself, Shane's wrapped his arms tightly around his middle in a way he knows betrays how fragile he's feeling. He's never had to be this person before. The weak one, the one who's broken beyond repair and needs to be coddled and soothed. And it's hard to qualify himself as weak with what he's managed to survive, but he sure as hell is broken. Like a shattered vase, pieces left in disarray. He'd tried to collect them, and put himself back together. But in the end, some of them had to be left behind. Others, just plain forgotten.

"I don't want to know," Shane says, much more quietly, "God, you didn't look, did you? You didn't care. But I don't want to know. I can't know...I kept _telling_ myself you would- wouldn't leave me there- wouldn't just _let_ them-"

Shane's voice cracks again, and it occurs to Rick that he's never seen Shane cry before, but today he just might. The gravity of what he's done starts to weigh on his chest, and Rick can't quite breathe properly, but at least he's in good company.

"Shane, I'm- I'm-" Rick wants to say he's sorry. But the words won't come out. And really, what's the point?

"I know I messed up. With- with Lori. But you forgave her, you know? And I figured maybe it'd take longer, but you'd forgive me too. We had more history, you and me. Didn't think you hated me enough to just-"

"I don't," Rick is quick to say, "I don't hate you. I didn't then. That wasn't the reason…"

"It was, though," Shane says. And he sounds weary, like the realization has aged him. "If it had been Daryl missing, _Lori_ , you wouldn't have waited. You wouldn't have left them behind. But me...me disappearing was a fuckin' blessing, huh? Didn't matter where I was, what was being done to me, so long as I was out of your hair."

Rick takes a step forward and reaches out to Shane, trying to say with his movements what his words can't seem to accomplish. And Shane's eyes go hard.

"No!" he jerks back. "Don't you fucking touch me. You don't get to touch me."

Shane starts pacing again, and the look in his eyes is the one Daryl had seen before he bolted into the woods, so the archer tries to intervene. He steps between the former partners.

"Hey, he's not gonna touch you," Daryl says, "No one's gonna touch you. Just need you to calm down, alright? You still haven't eaten nothin', or gotten much rest. Why don't you-"

But Shane isn't listening. Instead, he's slinking away down the wall, distancing himself from them with every breath. His hand is on the hilt of his knife.

"Goddamnit, Shane," bursts out of Rick's mouth, "Just do what he says!"

And that right there is more than enough. Shane turns on his heel and sprints away from them. He weaves through the people in the cell block, plows through the door, and heads out into the yard with speed Rick had forgotten the man possessed.

There's nowhere for him to go. It's late evening now, and with no one out on any runs, there was similarly no one at the main gates to let them back in. So when Shane hits the fences, sees that he's trapped, he collapses.

Daryl catches up to him a few minutes later. It had only taken a handful of tense words to decide that Daryl go after Shane, and no one else. When Daryl reaches him, Shane is slumped with his back to the fence and his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking, and it's only when Shane lifts his head up that Daryl realizes he's _laughing_ , of all things.

"It's just another cage," Shane says, smiling in a way that makes Daryl uneasy and shaking his head like he's hoping to dislodge it from his body, "Just another cage. One big fucking cage."

The whole scene reminds Daryl a lot of the few times Merle mixed his poisons, and ended up an emotional wreck, sprawled out on their bathroom floor. So he does now what he'd done back then, and sits down quietly at Shane's side. They stay like that for a long while, both staring out at the prison in silence. The shaking of Shane's body- be it laughter or sobs- eventually quiets, and Daryl's surprised to feel the older man leaning into him slightly.

"They send you out here to make sure I don't hurt anyone?" Shane asks softly.

"No," Daryl replies,"I came out here to make sure you didn't hurt yourself."

"Oh." Shane frowns and looks at Daryl thoughtfully.

"You weren't the only one that got left behind," Daryl tells him, "Not sure if that makes it any better. Had to leave Andrea when the herd blew through."

"Guess he's made a habit of it, at this point. Leaving people behind. Started with Merle, huh?"

Daryl's face falls, briefly. He pulls himself back together into an expression that's largely impassive, but Shane's eyes are as sharp as they've ever been, if a little bit wilder now.

"What happened?" Shane asks.

Daryl hesitates a beat, but then lets out a long breath through his nose and begins to speak. "Found Merle again. Andrea too, in this town near here. Was called Woodbury, and the guy in charge, he called himself The Governor. He killed my brother. Andrea. Tried to come here and kill all of us, just 'cuz he could, but we scared him and his army off. Turned the gun on his own people then disappeared, so we took in all the folks that got left in town while he was off trying to kill us. Been lookin' for him ever since. But...he's just gone."

"Sorry about your brother," Shane says, "Mine didn't die, don't know what that's like- but I sure as hell lost him."

"You could still fix it," Daryl replies. "You and Rick got a second chance now. More than I had with Merle."

"We can't. Not after…" he sighs. "I know it ain't his fault. Not...not really. Know that in my head, but…"

"But you still blame him. That's alright, if you need to. Hate him, even. Whatever makes it easier."

Shane nods. "I didn't want him to know. That's half the reason I wouldn't come back here with you. Figured as soon as he saw me, he'd know."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that," Daryl says. "Couldn't just leave you out there, though."

Shane leans into him the slightest bit more, and Daryl is surprised when it doesn't make him want to squirm away like bodily contact normally did. Back at the quarry, Shane had reminded Daryl of Merle in a lot of ways. His bigger-than-his-britches personality, his alpha-dog mentality, even his physique. Now, Daryl sees that Shane is more like his brother than he could ever have guessed. Two men desperate to hide the parts that were broken or unsightly, but wholly unable to do so.

"You're different, now," Shane says, breaking Daryl from his thoughts. "Different than I remember."

"So are you," Daryl replies.

Shane snorts. "Yeah, now I'm a fuckin' mess."

"Maybe. But sometimes everything's gotta go wrong before shit can start goin' right."

Shane looks at him and his lips split into a smile. It's genuine, and the first time the stress lines have eased from Shane's forehead since Daryl stumbled onto him in the woods.

"When the hell did you get deep?" Shane laughs.

Daryl finds he's laughing along with him. He stands up slowly, cracks his back like an old man. Then, he holds out a hand to Shane.

"C'mon."

Shane takes Daryl's hand, and as far as recovery goes, Daryl figures that's as good a start as any.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Four days after Shane arrives at the prison, Hershel pulls Daryl and Rick aside after breakfast.

"He hasn't been sleeping," Hershel tells them, "He'll get maybe an hour, then wake up and start pacing. Bethy's seen him walk the fences for hours. If it goes on much longer, he could do serious damage to himself."

Rick looks to Daryl and Daryl nods. "I'll take care of it," Daryl says.

So even though it's midday, he seeks Shane out. He isn't particularly hard to spot, walking the fences like he always does. It's the only thing that makes him feel even marginally useful, since he'd been banned from consorting with anyone else at the prison.

"Hey," Daryl says when he reaches him, "Come inside with me for a while."

Shane stops and stares at him. "Why?"

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

Shane's eyes fall to his feet. Still, he mutters, "Enough."

"An hour or two a night ain't enough," Daryl says, "Come inside for a while. Take a nap. You're gettin' people worried, pacing around like this."

"I'm not gonna be able to sleep," Shane says, "Trust me, I've been tryin'."

"Try again," Daryl urges, "Just for an hour or two, alright? You'll feel better."

"Don't know about that," Shane replies, "But I'll try. If that's what you want."

It seems a strange way to phrase it by Daryl's standards, but he goes with it. "Yeah, it's what I want."

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Shane's been quiet for a good half hour when Daryl heads outside to work on his bike. A short while later, he looks up to see Carl sprinting towards him.

Daryl is immediately on his feet, with bow in hand. "What's goin' on?"

"It's Shane," Carl pants, "Dad didn't want me to say anything, but, he's having a nightmare. And it's really bad. And he won't wake up and no one's _helping_ , and-"

Daryl is running back towards the prison before Carl has managed to finish his sentence. And when he gets inside, he finds Hershel, Carol, and Rick all huddled together outside of Shane's cell. He hears Shane before he's halfway down the cell block. The man is crying in his sleep, whimpering pleas of "no" and "please stop" and "no more, please no more." Daryl can hear the rusted bed scream in protest as Shane tosses and turns in his sleep, fighting off some unseen attacker.

"The hell are you doing just _standing here_?" Daryl growls.

"He sleeps with his knife, no one wants to risk getting stabbed trying to wake him," Carol says.

"So- what? You're just gonna let him suffer through it?"

He's answered with silence. Daryl lets out a frustrated, disproving sound from low in his throat and makes for Shane's cell.

"Fuck all of y'all," he calls behind him, then wrenches the privacy curtain shut.

Despite his show of aggression, Daryl is careful when he approaches Shane's bed. He perches himself on the very edge, and with his eyes on the pillow where he knows Shane' keeps his knife at night, Daryl shakes him awake.

"Shane," he murmurs, "Shane, wake up, man. C'mon."

A sob bursts out of Shane's throat as he jolts upright. He's panting hard, hair stuck to his face and sweat glistening his brow. Even if Daryl couldn't see the way the man was shaking, he could feel it, as the vibrations travel along the thin mattress. Shane's eyes are closed, though Daryl's almost positive he's awake. A half-second passes, and Daryl realizes he might be afraid to open his eyes at all. Afraid he might open them and find himself somewhere horrible, the place from his nightmares.

"Hey," Daryl says, "You're okay, man. You're safe. Alright?"

Finally, Shane opens his eyes. He lets out a sigh of relief as he does it, and a handful of tears stream down his cheeks. He rubs at them roughly, stares at his wet hand as if he's surprised to find them there. He lets out a shuddering breath and pushes himself up so his back is against the wall.

After a moment, Daryl turns to join him. "That why you haven't been sleeping? Nightmares?"

It takes Shane a few slow breaths to muster up an answer. "It's not worth it. Not when that happens every time I try and close my eyes."

"Shoulda said something," Daryl scolds him, but with no bite behind it, "Bet Hershel can scrounge up some sleeping pills-"

"No," Shane immediately replies, "I won't take them. Can't be out of it like that."

"You're out of it _now._ Tryin' to get by off of a couple hours of sleep a night."

Daryl feels Shane's eyes on the side of his face. "Some of 'em liked me better drugged. 'Specially at the beginning, when I had the strength to fight back. I can't take any pills, okay? Please don't ask me to."

Don't _you_ ask me to, is how Daryl hears it. Anyone else, but not _you._

"I won't ask again," Daryl promises, "But there's gotta be something…"

He isn't looking at Shane when he says it, but he feels the trembling come back tenfold. And for all the years he'd spent doing the exact same in his bedroom at home, shaking in bed as his father's footsteps approached, Daryl can't stand to sit idly by and watch it happen.

Propelled by instinct alone, Daryl reaches around to the back of Shane's neck, and pulls, gently, until their foreheads touch. It's the first time he's instigated any kind of touch in years, or at least since Merle had given up on him as far as bedding women went. Daryl thinks that Merle must have at least suspected the reason why, but for all his taunting and crooning of "Darleena," he never spoke the words explicitly. Daryl prefers it that way. Doesn't want to consider that Merle might have been disappointed, disgusted even, if he'd known for sure.

"Take a breath," Daryl murmurs to Shane. Their faces are close, but Daryl notes that his touch seems to be having a positive effect. Shane's shaking has downgraded to infrequent tremors. And more promising than that is the fact that Shane hasn't tried to pull away. "That's it. You're alright, man. Just breathe."

One side of Daryl's brain is wishing someone had comforted him like this when he'd needed it, when it might have made a difference. The other is fighting valiantly not to enjoy it. Shane doesn't need that, not now. That kind of betrayal from the one person he seems to trust at the moment could cripple him. So Daryl pushes those feelings down, like he always has.

And when Shane's breathing goes back to normal, and trembling abates entirely, he pulls back.

Shane stays pressed against him. He asks, "Could you sleep here, tonight? It's just...this helped, and knowing you're here, hearing you. Maybe if you were here, it wouldn't happen…"

"Of course, man," Daryl tells him easily, "Whatever you need."

The looks Shane gives him then is so fucking grateful that Daryl knows he won't be able to deny the man anything. Worse still, Daryl isn't sure he'd want to.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

For the next week, Daryl sleeps in Shane's cell every night. He starts out on the floor, in a huddle of blankets. Daryl pops up to rouse Shane from each and every nightmare, but otherwise keeps his distance. He realizes fairly quickly that he can soothe Shane with his touch alone. It's something Daryl has never experienced before, in the reverse or otherwise. But when he'd wake up at night to Shane whimpering, however softly, a hand on Shane's neck would always quiet him.

Three nights in, and Daryl shifts his makeshift nest until it's directly under Shane's bunk. Five nights, and he falls asleep with one arm resting awkwardly over Shane's. And even when he wakes up with a sore shoulder and a case of pins and needles that could cripple an elephant, Daryl figures it was worth it.

Daryl notices that while Shane used to sleep on his stomach, sprawled out free-fall style in a way that swallowed up whatever bedspace he was allotted, now he sleeps curled into a ball. He suspects that when Shane had told him he couldn't be locked in a cage, he'd meant it quite literally. It would certainly explain his sudden change in sleeping habits, as well as the panicked look he always got when he strode back through the prison doors at night.

It's eight nights after Daryl unofficially moves in with Shane that the older man wakes up panting and trembling. Feeling guilty for not having woken him before the nightmare got this far, Daryl moves up onto the bed. He faces the other man, and brings one hand to the back of Shane's neck. A moment later, Daryl jolts in surprise when Shane moves into him quickly, knocking his right hip to Daryl's left as he let his head fall onto the younger Dixon's shoulder.

There haven't been many times in Daryl's life that he's been sought out for comfort. The first had been back when Lil' Asskicker was born, and even then, she hadn't exactly had a choice in the matter. But Shane, Shane melts into him like the amen at the end of a prayer for forgiveness.

After Shane's breathing has evened out, Daryl moves to get back down on the floor, but Shane's firm grip on his shirt keeps him in place.

"What?" Daryl asks.

"Gotta be uncomfortable sleepin' down there," Shane says slowly, "Bed's big enough for the both of us, don't you think?"

Daryl appraises him for a beat, before saying, "Gonna be a tight fit."

Shane grins at a joke Daryl doesn't quite understand and murmurs, "I'm okay with that."

And if _Shane_ wanted it, well, then what was Daryl to do? He slides into the outside section of the bed, allowing Shane to squeeze in between himself and the wall. And for probably the trillionth time since he'd found him, Shane does the unexpected. He turns away from Daryl, lets his back face the other man in a way that screams vulnerability and trust, and settles into bed. And after several minutes of Daryl lying stiff as a board beside him, Shane reaches back to grab his arm and wrap it around his middle.

"Be more comfortable, that way," Shane mumbles. Daryl wants to snort in disbelief. Instead, he falls into a deeper sleep than he's had in months.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Two weeks later, Shane and Daryl have developed a routine that the latter enjoys far more than he should. They eat their meals together. Though Rick decided that Shane was safe around the others after just a few days, his ex-partner still avoids most of the people at the prison. So after the first time Daryl spots Shane breathing far too quickly in the corner at dinner, and eyeing the large group nervously, Daryl figures he can take it upon himself to monitor Shane during meals. For his own good, of course. Not because Daryl enjoys it.

Between breakfast and dinner, they don't see eachother much. Shane has been added to the rota for guard and fence duty. Rick put up some resistance, at first, but the truth is Shane is more vigilant and brutally effective now, than ever. Within the first day of Shane's new responsibilities, Daryl notices how much more relaxed he looks. How helping to keep this place safe helps him feel safer by consequence.

But even though Shane works alongside the people at the prison, eats with them, lives with them, he rarely speaks to anyone but Daryl. He gives a polite "thank you" to Carol when she hands him his food, or to the Woodbury women when they bring him clean clothes, but that's about the extent of it. Shane doesn't speak to Rick. Doesn't so much as look at him, and Carl ends up included in that mainly because Shane doesn't know what to say.

The evenings become Daryl's favorite part of the day. The warmth that spreads in his chest each time he heads back to the cell and finds Shane waiting for him is a feeling Daryl hates to love. There's no awkwardness, anymore, when they climb into bed together. It feels as natural as breathing to be close to Shane, and Daryl knows he shouldn't entertain that thought, but he can't exactly help it.

Shane's made it a habit, these days, of checking Daryl over carefully for injuries each time he returns from a hunt or a run. It edges on compulsive, the way Shane runs his hands carefully over Daryl's body, watching for the smallest sign of pain. And while Daryl had grumbled and griped about it the first time, squirming out of Shane's grip- now, he just lets it happen. He can't stand to watch those deep lines of concern return to Shane's forehead. And, if he's being honest with himself, he likes it when Shane touches him.

For that reason, Daryl rushes back to their shared cell an hour earlier than usual after helping Carol clear away dinner. He pushes back the curtain, just a mite overeager, and gasps at what he finds.

Shane has his cargo pants pulled down to the middle of his thighs. He's gripping his cock tightly, though he's only half-hard, and his shirt is hanging open. Where Shane's chest had once been a smooth plane of muscle and tan skin, there are now more scars than Daryl can count. Most come in the form of sharp, clean parallel lines, almost certainly delivered by blade.

Fittingly, when Daryl walks in, Shane hurries to cover his chest before attempting to tuck himself away. He's never been ashamed of that particular part of his anatomy before, and no post-apocalyptic torment has managed to change that.

"Shit, sorry," Daryl mutters with the curtain still in hand, "I can go-"

"No need," Shane says, cutting him off, "Done anyways."

"Don't look done," Daryl says before he can stop himself.

Shane eyes the ground angrily. "Ain't workin', s'what I mean. It's fine. You don't have to leave."

Taking him at his word, Daryl lets the curtain flutter closed behind him and steps into the cell.

"Do you wanna...uh...talk about it?" Daryl asks, shuffling on his feet a little awkwardly.

The look on Shane's face is a resounding "No," but to Daryl's surprise, he opens his mouth to speak. "Whenever I try, I get uh...flashbacks? I guess. At least that's what the vets back home called them. But they don't feel like memories, ya know? They feel like I'm fuckin' dying. Like I'm still there, but here at the same time."

Daryl sits down on the bed next to him and Shane continues, "A lot of them," and when Shane says _them_ Daryl knows exactly who the fuck he's talking about. Rage boils in his chest. "A lot of them used me as their personal punching bag. And that was fine. After a while, it was normal, as fucked up as that is. But one of them- Warren- he always said ' _A hurtin' bitch ain't a good fuck.'_ So, he didn't hurt me. He made it feel... _good_."

Shane chances a quick look in Daryl's direction. Daryl thinks his face is carefully neutral, but his disgust must be showing, because Shane immediately launches into, "I didn't want to. I wanted it to hurt but I couldn't fucking control it! I-"

"Hey, that ain't your fault," Daryl soothes, placing a hand on the back of Shane's neck. "Don't gotta feel guilty over that. Just 'cuz your body reacted, didn't mean you _wanted_ it. I know that. You know it too."

Shane lets out a shuddering breath and nods. "Yeah. Yeah, except now my last memory of anything feelin' good like that is from him, and everytime I try to replace it I get sucked back in. Can't separate it."

Daryl grunts his understanding and looks down at his lap. It's only then that he notices one of his shirts, the one he'd worn the day before, balled up in Shane's left hand.

He brushes his fingers over it, and looks to Shane. "What's this?"

Shane's cheeks flare a brilliant shade of red, and Daryl nearly smiles. Because no, that can't be, but judging by the embarrassed look on Shane's face, it fucking _was_.

"Was just...you bein' around always helps, and I thought-" Shane can't finish, which is just fine, because it's then that Daryl pipes up, "Think the real thing would work any better?"

Shane's big brown eyes are wide and confused when they meet Daryl's, so the younger man clarifies, "Not doin' anything funny. Just being here. I'm game, if you think it'll help."

Still staring at him, Shane says, "That wouldn't be weird?"

In what he hopes is a nonchalant move, Daryl shrugs one shoulder. "Used to share a room with Merle." The words are true, but the implication behind them is a flat out lie. Daryl holds his breath like a lovesick teenager.

"Could give it a try, I guess," Shane says slowly. There's something bright in his eyes that Daryl can't identify.

"Where do you want me?" Daryl asks. The corner of Shane's mouth twitches upwards.

In the end, Shane pushes Daryl to the head of the bed, seated up against the wall. He situates himself between Daryl's legs, and leans back into the younger man's chest. As Daryl watches, Shane eases his pants down his legs and takes himself in hand.

His heart is absolutely pounding, and he considers briefly that Shane must be able to feel it. But his mind goes blissfully blank as soon as Shane's hand begins to move. This close, Daryl can hear the man release a shaky breath as a bolt of pleasure crashes down his spine. Shane's head lolls on Daryl's shoulder, and he takes no shame in breathing in the younger man's scent with his eyes closed. He brings his palm to his mouth, tongues over it filthily, then begins to stroke outright.

Shane's cock is like something out of a magazine, the kind of magazine Daryl had shoved into the back of his jeans once at a truckstop in the next county, then set alight and thrown into an abandoned trash can. It's thick, and long, and curves just slightly towards Shane's belly.

Daryl's own mouth is dry as he watches Shane arch up into his fist. And despite the overwhelming desire to rake his fingers down Shane's chest, Daryl keeps his hands to himself. Fists them into the thin sheets and holds on for dear life. Daryl thinks himself lucky that Shane's breathing has gone loud and ragged, because otherwise, he'd surely be able to hear the man behind him panting lewdly.

Suddenly, Shane's body turns to stone. Daryl can see that his eyes are still closed, and maybe for his own benefit as much as Shane's, he intervenes.

"Hey, open your eyes," Daryl murmurs. Shane does as he says. He's panting lightly, and Daryl thinks it's from more than arousal. "You're here with me, okay? Safe. Just me and you."

Daryl has to bite back the instinct to say things like " _No one's ever gonna hurt you again"_ and " _I've got you, now_ " because he knows they'd be unwanted at best and a betrayal at worst. But still, Shane tilts his head to look up at him and nods.

Peering at him hesitantly, Shane mumbles, "Keep talking?"

It's a question, not a demand. And even though _dirty talk_ wasn't exactly a skill Daryl had picked up over the years, he wasn't so sure that was what Shane wanted, anyways.

"I can do that," Daryl replies. His voice is rough and low. "Just let it feel good, alright? Try not to think about anything else. Just that. Just what it feels like."

Shane's cock twitches and fills until it's jutting out proudly, and he begins to touch himself again.

"It's easier now, huh?" Daryl murmurs, "You just gotta stay here with me. Don't let your mind go anywhere else. It feel good?"

Shane's hips jump, and he moans, "Yes. Fuck."

Precum beads at the tip of Shane's cock, only to be swept down with every stroke. Daryl watches, and licks his lips. He's hard against Shane's lower back, harder than he's been in years, but with Shane's fist quickly picking up pace, the man curled into his chest doesn't seem to notice.

"Doin' so good, Shane," Daryl praises him. "This is what you need, man. Your body needs this. You just gotta let it happen."

Shane begins to fuck his hand outright, hips rolling up in movements that make Daryl's entire lower body throb. He's never seen a man up close before, not in person and not like _this_ , sweating and trembling in pleasure. But even with his lack of experience, he can see that Shane is close.

"That's it, just stay right here," Daryl rumbles from deep in his chest. "Almost there, huh? Yeah, I know you are. Keep your eyes open, Shane. Keep thinkin' 'bout how good it feels."

Shane moans, and the sound goes straight to Daryl's cock. His free hand darts down to grab Daryl by the wrist, startling him, and Shane jerks Daryl's hand up to the back of his neck.

"Please," Shane says, but it's more of a whimper, "Please, Daryl."

And even if Daryl isn't entirely sure why Shane would want that anyways, saying no to the man shuddering against him is no longer an option.

"Shh, s'alright," Daryl says. The skin of Shane's neck is feverishly warm, and Daryl drags his fingertips over it slowly.

A violent shiver rips its way through Shane's body. "Fuck," he gasps.

"There ain't one goddamn _thing_ wrong with you," Daryl tells him, "This is yours. You can feel like this whenever you want. Now let it go, Shane. C'mon. Let it go for me."

Shane's free hand shoots back to grasp Daryl by the shoulder, and as Daryl watches, Shane's cock jerks hard as he comes with a loud moan. He trembles in Daryl's arms as his orgasm pulses through him, painting his shirt in stripes that reach up to his collar bone. And even if Daryl has never seen a man this way before, he can't help but think that Shane is beautiful.

Daryl stays exactly where he is until the arch of Shane's back finally settles, and his breathing evens out. Then, he slips out from behind Shane wordlessly, refusing to meet his gaze, and darts off toward the shower room.

When the cold water does nothing to soothe the want burning him from inside out, Daryl admits defeat and strokes himself hard and fast until he spills against the wall. It's embarrassing how quickly it happens, how little control he seems to have over himself when Shane was involved. And just fifteen minutes after Daryl had left, he returns to their cell and finds Shane curled in bed, facing the door.

He steps into the room, but hovers at the center.

"Hey," Daryl rasps, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Shane says, then adds pointedly, "A little cold."

Daryl takes that as the invitation it is, and slides into bed beside Shane. He's surprised when the older man doesn't turn towards the wall like normal, and instead huddles closer to him, and presses his forehead to Daryl's chest.

"Thank you," Shane mumbles, so softly that Daryl can barely hear him.

"Ya don't gotta thank me," Daryl replies, and leaves it at that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The evening after Shane comes, moaning and shuddering in Daryl's arms, Daryl sits in the empty mess hall and lets his guilt swallow him whole. He lingers in the room for too long, long enough that he's half expecting Shane to come looking for him, before trudging his way back to his cell. Shane is awake and waiting for him, like always, and that only serves to make Daryl feel guiltier.

He comes inside, but stops at the center of the room, eyes on the ground, shamefaced.

"Where you been?" Shane asks him, feeling a lot like one of those nagging housewives he'd always seen on TV.

"Just...takin' care of some things," Daryl mumbles, though he knows it hardly passes as an excuse. He can't lift his eyes from the dusty floor.

"Wanted to say, I'm sorry about the other night. Shouldn't have done it."

He hears Shane release a fast and heavy breath, and looks up. The older man is squinting at him the way an old woman eyes a novel when the font is too small.

"Sorry?" Shane repeats, "Man, you ain't got a clue how much you _helped_ me, do you?"

"Not sure that's the kinda help you need, what I did," Daryl replies, and hates himself while he does it.

The lightness in Shane's expression plummets down and into the shadows, all notes of amusement vanishing from his face.

"You been raped before?"

Daryl can't answer. He can't blink either, can hardly breathe with the weight of what Shane's just said. It's the first time he's heard the man use that word aloud. The first time _anyone_ has used it, in fact, with how carefully they'd all been treading since Shane arrived at the prison.

"That's what I thought," Shane says. His voice is eerily steady and cold. "So don't start telling me what I do and don't need."

He pushes his way past Daryl and out of the cell, and Daryl does not go after him.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Rather than pacing a groove into the cement floor, Daryl relieves Michonne of her watch duty and hides up in the tower until dawn. When he returns to his and Shane's cell just as the prison is starting to rumble with activity, he finds the older man lying in bed, awake. He has dark bags under his eyes, and Daryl knows he hasn't slept.

"You still pissed at me?" Daryl asks him from the doorway.

Shane peers up at him from under his arm. "No."

When Shane's response seems genuine, if a little strained, Daryl comes the rest of the way into the room and sits down on the edge of the bed. SIlence stretches over them like a threadbare blanket, until Shane lets out a long sigh and pushes himself until he's sitting up too.

"Just 'cuz I got hurt, doesn't mean I can't make my own decisions. I know what's good for me and what ain't," Shane says.

"I know that. S'just, I don't want you to regret anything. And me, I'm the kinda guy people regret doin' shit with."

The expression on Shane's face gentles. "I don't regret it. I'm not gonna start."

Daryl doesn't know what to do with that information, so he bypasses it entirely and says, "It ain't that I don't wanna help. I'd do anything you asked me to. But I ain't a fuckin' therapist. Hell, I can barely deal with my _own_ shit, let alone help someone else dig through theirs."

"And what kinda shit is that?"

Trying not to freeze under Shane's watchful eye, Daryl mutters, "You know. I...I thought you saw, back at the farm."

Shane nods. "I did. I just wanted to see if you'd say it."

 _So that's the game he's playing at_ , Daryl thinks bitterly. And then, after a moment of clarity, _so that's what he needs._

"What do you wanna hear?" Daryl asks. He feels oddly naked, in front of Shane. But the kind of naked that arises from being out in the wild, shameless and true.

"How long?"

"Merle left when I was eight, right after our Mom died. Went on from then 'til he came back to town after the army kicked him out, and we took off together. Was seventeen, then. Never did graduate."

"That doesn't matter, now."

"It mattered to me. I wanted...wanted to get out of there on my own. Get away from my family and make somethin' of myself."

"You did," Shane replies.

Daryl scoffs, "This place doesn't count."

"You kidding me? Everyone looks up to you, now. You lead these people, feed them, protect them. Got kids around here who fuckin' worship you, and women who'd throw themselves to the walkers for one night with you. You've got family."

The word ' _women_ ' falls out of Shane's mouth like a curse, but Daryl chooses to ignore it.

"Don't mean as much when the people I wanted to prove my worth to are in the ground."

At the very least, Shane seems to understand that, because he goes quiet to Daryl's right. And after a few minutes, he breaks that silence with a question Daryl has never been asked. Not once.

"What did he do to you?"

Daryl's breathing stops, briefly, before he mutters, "The usual shit."

"Hit you," Shane supplies. Daryl nods. "Told you lies, I bet. That you were worthless; that no one would ever care about you." Daryl nods again, and Shane says, more softly this time, "Took the belt to you."

Daryl jerks his chin in the affirmative and glares at the ground.

"He touch you?" Shane asks pointedly.

"No," Daryl says, "No, never that." He swallows hard, then continues, "It ain't the same what happened to you and what happened to me."

"Seems pretty damn similar," Shane counters.

"It ain't. My Dad...he wasn't bad all the time. If all he'd ever done was whip me and tell me I was a piece of shit, I would have ratted on him to the cops. Took off on my own, at least. But he had his good days, just often enough to keep me there. He did...a lot of things...a lot of fucked up things to me. And I spent most of my life scared shitless of the guy, but he was still my _Dad_."

Daryl raises a shaky hand to his neck and scratches at it, for something to do. "Not sayin' what happened to you is any worse, or any better. Just different. Fuck, I ain't even supposed to talk about this-"

"You can do whatever the fuck you want," Shane cuts him off fiercely, "He's dead, isn't he?" Daryl nods. "That's right. He doesn't get to control shit about you anymore. And I wanted to hear; I'm glad you told me."

Shane grabs Daryl by either shoulder, and grins triumphantly when he manages to drag the younger man down into the bed and onto his side.

"Watcha- ?" Daryl grunts, only to be shushed none too gently. Shane rubs circles over Daryl's back as they lie facing each other in bed.

"Neither of us slept last night. Right? So let's sleep now."

Unduly grateful that the conversation is over, Daryl just nods, bumping his chin against the top of Shane's head, and shuts his eyes.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Daryl notices early on that something in his and Shane's relationship has shifted, and he's not sure what to do about it. Shane has never hesitated to touch him, not since that first day when Daryl carted him back to the prison against his will. And while Shane still crowds up into him late at night, and inspects him carefully for injuries each day, the small ways that Shane touches him have changed dramatically.

Now, Daryl can describe Shane as almost _shy_ , as foreign a concept as that is. He bites at his lip, sometimes, as he draws his hand down Daryl's arm to grab his attention. And the times that Shane has squeezed Daryl's thigh firmly as a way of saying hello, or brushed his fingers over his hip as they parted ways, the younger Dixon is sure he's also seen Shane blush in response to Daryl's quirked brow.

Daryl is sitting in the bunk beside Shane, fiddling with a splintered arrow, when the older man reaches over and brushes his hair out of his face. Stopping what he's doing, Daryl steadies his pulse.

Then, he says, "You don't have to do...that. I didn't ask you to."

Pages of words hang unsaid between them, but when Shane's gaze turns just a little more serious, Daryl thinks the other man has understood his meaning.

 _You don't owe me anything_ , Daryl wants to say, _You don't have to pretend to want me like that. Don't have to touch me like it means something. I'm not gonna leave, not for anything. And there's nothing I need you to do for me to want to stay._

Shane holds his gaze, firm and unyielding, and replies, "I wanted to."

They stare at each other just a few seconds too long before Daryl's eyes slip back to his lap and he refocuses his attention on the task in front of him.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

The first time Daryl and Shane kiss, it's in the comfort of the bed they share, early in the morning, before either of them have managed to open their eyes. Shane had turned into Daryl as he slept, turned until their noses were just a breath away from touching. They're both awake, but only barely. Shane shifts in Daryl's grasp and trails one hand up Daryl's chest. And Daryl, not quite aware enough to hold himself back, tightens his arms around Shane and pulls the other man closer.

When Shane's lips press to Daryl's, the younger man doesn't gasp. He doesn't flinch, or pull away, and he can't blame it all on those last tendrils of sleep urging him to slip back into unconsciousness. No, when Shane first kisses Daryl, the younger Dixon hums out a contented sound and kisses him right back.

It starts out chaste. Shane's mouth moving with Daryl's is slow, and easy, and right, and Daryl half-believes he's still sleeping. But then Shane rocks into him, moves until he's lying mostly on top of Daryl's sleep-warm form. And with Shane's whole body pressed into his, Daryl can't hide anymore how hard he is. He can't ignore that Shane is hard too.

Daryl pushes his forehead into Shane's to gasp in a breath. He keeps his hand on the back of Shane's neck, holding them together, steady and real.

"You might have noticed, but I ain't so good at talkin'. You're gonna have to tell me what's alright, and what ain't," Daryl says.

"This is good," Shane replies. He grazes his lips over Daryl's again and smiles. "I like this. So long as you like it too."

"'Course I do, but that doesn't matter."

Shane sits up and frowns at him. "I wouldn't be doin' this if I didn't think you wanted it too. Are you saying…?"

"No, no, trust me, man, I want it. Just...never been with a guy. Hell, even if you were a chick you'd be way out of my fuckin' league," Daryl's eyes move to Shane's neck and he strokes over it with his fingertips as he speaks. "Don't wanna mess anything up. Or disappoint ya, since I ain't got a clue what I'm doin'."

That smile Daryl cherishes slides easily back into place on Shane's face.

"Never been with a guy at all?" Shane asks, "Not even a kiss?"

"Nothin'," Daryl says, a little breathlessly when Shane begins to nuzzle along the length of his collar bone.

"But you wanted to," Shane says, grinding his length against Daryl's to make his point. "So why'd you wait?"

"Growin' up the way I did, there were plenty of things I wanted that I couldn't have. Just put it out of my mind, for the most part. Tried not to think about it," Daryl pulls back far enough to catch Shane's eye, "Can't stop thinkin' about it, now. With _you_."

Daryl wants to ask about Shane's sexuality, discern whether he's bi or gay or _what_ , but with the way the older man is kissing him, Daryl has no doubt that he wants this. Then Shane rocks his hips into Daryl's again, and all thoughts vacate his mind aside from _yes_ and _please_.

They kiss slow and deep, but can't seem to help but buck against each other like teenagers. The friction is so good- not everything, not quite complete, but for Daryl it's perfect. It's mostly about the kissing, Daryl thinks. About communicating with his lips in this new way, a form of speaking that he never knew existed. Shane explores his mouth with ease, tangling their tongues together one moment only to tickle his against Daryl's lower lip the next. The heat grows until Daryl is gasping, and digging his fingers into Shane's shoulders.

"If ya don't stop…" Daryl manages to groan out.

"Don't wanna stop," Shane moans against him, "Need this. Need _you,_ Daryl. Please."

Daryl can't stop, not anymore. With one hand grasping Shane by the back of his neck, and the other pressed to Shane's lower back, Daryl rolls his hips up hard.

"Wanna see you come," Daryl groans, because it's true. But the words are just dirty enough to set Shane off.

With hooded eyes, Daryl watches as Shane's body freezes above him, then dissolves into a million pieces. Shane's eyes are scrunched shut, and he moans Daryl's name. And when Daryl feels the warmth spreading between them, it's too much to take.

Daryl grips Shane by his ass and pulls hard, lifting his hips to meet him once, twice, three times. His cock twitches hard, and all at once Daryl is coming, soaking the fabric of his jeans and groaning out a sound that's rough as gravel.

He collapses back into the bed, and Shane rolls over onto his side, keeping his leg hooked around Daryl's waist. They lay there panting for several minutes before Shane says, "I'm gonna want to do that again."

It's clear to the both of them what those words mean; the possibility of _together_ and _more_ , and some kind of permanence between them. Daryl knows that even if Shane didn't phrase it as a question, it is one. It's a proposition that Daryl could still refuse. But why would he, when refusing would crush his own hopes and dreams, as well as those of the man next to him.

Daryl cocks an eyebrow at him. "I ain't sixteen anymore. You're gonna have to give me a minute."

Shane's lips split into a wide smile, and he buries his face in Daryl's shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

It's a week later and Daryl's never been touched so much in his life. Shane doesn't seem the least bit willing to downplay how they'd been spending their spare time. At meals, he leans heavily against Daryl, sometimes coming up behind him and grazing his palms down his shoulders and chest. When they pass one another during the day, Shane always stops him to steal a slow kiss. People stare- Daryl's more than a little aware of that- but Shane doesn't mind. And if he wants it, then Daryl will provide. He'd already decided he'd never deny Shane anything.

Still, some people stare more than others. The Woodbury women take an interest straight off the bat, watching them unashamed and murmuring amongst themselves in tones that range from jealous to aroused. Daryl catches Michonne watching them, every so often. But her expression is usually something more like content smugness, as if she'd been expecting this all along. Maggie's the same way. Carl, most of all.

It's not until Daryl spots Carol frowning in his and Shane's direction out of the corner of his eye that he realizes some people might not be as enthusiastic about their relationship as others. He suspects it's routed in possessiveness more than jealousy, if her intermittent comments of "I liked you first" are anything to go by. If anything, the way she looks at them is suspicious most of all. And Daryl likes to tell himself that she just doesn't trust Shane yet. That they'll get there, eventually.

Rick is the only one who never hides his glare. It's not a permanent fixture on his face, but when it's there, he revels in it, and stares glassy-eyed in their direction until Daryl pulls Shane away to someplace more private. Shane doesn't seem to notice, too caught up in dragging his fingers through Daryl's messy locks and fingering over his denim-clad thighs. But Daryl can sense the intensity of Rick's gaze even when his back is turned.

Daryl worries about Rick the most. He knows that his lingering distrust of Shane is part of it, but realizes just the same that trust isn't the only problem there. He could be jealous of Daryl, or Shane. He could feel betrayed by one or both of them. But for however much he used to depend on Daryl, look to him as his second command, lately Rick has been isolating himself more and more. Keeping to the garden, for long hours. Purposefully missing meals. And Daryl knows for a fact the man hasn't been sleeping. Knows because of the many nights he's been restless himself, listening to Rick pace the catwalk while he and Shane lie in bed together.

But that's a problem for tomorrow. It has to be, when Shane's giving him that look again, and leading him by the belt loops back towards their bunk.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

Carl finally seeks Shane out on a Tuesday. Though it's only a Tuesday because Hershel had proclaimed it to be. He chuffs his feet against the concrete floor as he shuffles into the doorway of the cell, knowing that at this time of day, Daryl would be out hunting.

Shane startles at the sound of someone coming into his space, someone who isn't Daryl, but settles when he sees it's Carl.

"What's up, man?"

"Can we talk?"

Shane hesitates, Rick's words echoing in his mind, but can't deny the younger Grimes when he's looking so hesitantly hopeful.

"Sure. Why don'tcha step into my office?"

Carl smiles at him and plops himself down on the bed. He takes the Sheriff's hat off his head and places it in his lap, fiddling with the frayed edge as he works out just what he wants to say.

"Something on your mind?" Shane prompts him.

It takes a few more seconds after that for Carl to speak. "I know something bad happened to you, while you were gone." He plows forward without waiting for Shane to respond. "I know it was really bad, whatever it was. And you don't have to tell me what, 'cuz Dad told me I wasn't allowed to ask. But I just...I just really missed you, Shane."

Shane's expression softens from the tension that had sprung from Carl's words about _bad things_.

"I missed you too, man. More than you know."

"I don't get why Dad's so mad at you. And he won't tell me. And _you_ won't tell me. I don't get it!"

Shane chooses his words carefully. "I made some mistakes, before we got...separated. Some mistakes your Dad wouldn't be able to forget so easily. We'll get there, me and him. Eventually. You don't have to worry."

"You mean how you and Mom were together?"

Shane's breath catches in his throat. "You knew about that?"

"I'm not _stupid_ ," Carl replies sullenly. "But you and Dad both caring about her, wouldn't that have been good? How can it be bad to have two people who want to protect you?"

"Your Dad didn't see it that way. Most people wouldn't. The same way it'd kill me to see someone else with…" He cuts himself off before he says Daryl's name.

"I _know_ you and Daryl are dating," Carl says, with all the confidence and wisdom of a pre-teen. "But it's not your fault. You thought Dad was dead. You said so."

"I did. I really did. Never lied about that," Shane says. "But I don't think what happened while he was in a coma is what's got your Dad angry still."

Carl goes silent for a beat, nodding slowly. "You know, I still love Mom, even though she's gone. I bet it'd be even worse if you loved someone who was right near you, but you couldn't be with them. Loving someone when you're not allowed. It'd hurt, the way it still hurts when I think about Mom."

Christ, sometimes Shane forgets just how smart Carl is.

"It does hurt," Shane said. "It did. Less, now. But...I was a real prick about it. Your Dad has every right to be pissed about that."

"But...he left you behind."

Shane lets out a harsh breath through his teeth. "Carl…"

"I tried to make him go back. I tried to make him go back, Shane, I swear!"

"Hey, hey." Shane places his hand gently down on Carl's shoulder. It's the most he's touched the kid since he'd returned, constantly fighting every urge to sweep him into a hug like he used to. "Carl, I ain't mad at you. That wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault."

At that, Carl crumples. His body shakes, but no tears come out, and he curls into Shane's side.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Shane. I'm sorry…"

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Shane soothes. "I still love you, alright? Nothing's gonna change that. Nothing."

Carl sniffles and lets out a slow sigh. "I keep thinking, keep wishing you'd been here for...Mom. That maybe it would have been different, if you were. Don't tell Dad I said that."

"I won't," Shane promises, "And I don't know if it would have been different. But I wish I'd been here, too. For _you_ , when you needed me."

Carl nods against his side. "You're here now, though."

"I am."

"And...you're not still thinking about leaving, right?"

"No, not anymore," Shane assures him.

Carl pulls back to look him in the eye. "You'd tell me before you left, right? Promise you won't leave without saying anything."

"Carl, I'm not gonna leave," Shane is quick to say, "I'm not leaving. I'm just not. I swear."

Carl stands up then, but he's smiling, and seems to believe Shane.

"Good," he says. "I really missed you, Shane."

"Missed you too, buddy," Shane says as he watches Carl slip back out into the cellblock, and the words are thick in his throat. He's still reeling a half-minute later when Rick wrenches back the privacy curtain of the cell and stomps his way inside.

"I told you," RIck growls, "I told you to stay away from him."

Shane flinches, can't fucking _help_ it when Rick's tone is so nauseatingly familiar, and says, "I didn't seek him out. He just needed to talk, man."

"He can talk to me. I'm his father."

Shane chooses his words carefully. "He needed to clear the air. Fuck, Rick, he actually thought I was _mad_ at him. That I'd blame him the way I blame-"

A long silence stretches between them. Rick stares blankly down at Shane, who curls further into himself on the edge of the bunk.

"So that's what this is," Rick says, "I hoped you'd be over it by now. But no, that's exactly what this is. You blame me."

"Shouldn't I?" Shane mutters under his breath. He steels himself and meets Rick's gaze. "What they did- that's not on you. That was just them. But the fact that they had the chance? It never woulda happened if you'd listened to me about Randall. And the really bad shit- they didn't start on that 'til days after they had me. If you'd come back for me, looked for me, it wouldn't have happened at all."

Rick paces in front of him, boots echoing against the concrete floors. "You didn't have to do a goddamn thing about Randall. I told you not to. I had it handled!"

"I was protecting you. I was protecting all of you!" Shane bites back, rising to his feet.

"No one asked you to!" Rick shouts in his face.

And well, Shane knows he should keep his mouth shut, but when has he ever managed to do that?

"Lori did."

Rick's eyes jerk to meet his, dark black pits that Shane doesn't recognize. A fucking dare.

"We were stuck in traffic, everyone trying to get out of the city. And they started dropping bombs, man...and she asked me to protect her and Carl. Shoulda known she didn't need to- I never would have let anything happen to them. But she begged me to promise. So I did. I promised her. And there wasn't no goddamn way I was letting your righteous bullshit get in the way of that."

Rick's hand darts out and fists into Shane's collar. "Fuck you. Don't you say a fuckin' word about her."

Shane jolts himself out of RIck's grasp, but in his panic, puts too much force behind it. He catches himself on the bed, shirt hanging open and collar ripped apart. He's panting when Rick takes another step towards him, staring at the place where his neck meets his sternum.

"Where is it?" Rick asks. Shane ignores him, still working on getting his breathing in check, but then Rick presses, "Where's your necklace?"

All the air leaves Shane's lungs at once. "Gone."

"What do you mean, gone? You never take it off. I haven't seen you without it since we were in high school."

Shane refuses to look at him. "It's just gone, Rick. Leave it."

Another step forward, and Shane's stomach is twisting into knots as he valiantly fights the urge to run.

"Why should I?" Rick asks. "Where's the necklace, Shane?"

The tension rods holding Shane together from the inside out all snap at once, and he turns on Rick, eyes fiery and piercing.

"That's all that matters, huh? The necklace? The fucking necklace? I'll tell you where it is. I shoved down the throat of the last one of them I killed. So there! You can track down his undead ass and fuckin' gut him if you want it that bad."

"Shane…" Rick's face has gone from a frustrated sort of angry to shocked, maybe even frightened. But Shane can't stop. His mouth won't stop going, and he's not entirely sure he wants it to.

"No. Don't you say my name. Don't you fuckin' say my name like that. You know why I choked him with it? Know why I had to? 'Cuz when he decided I'd be a nice thing to stick his dick into- and he was the first- he saw my necklace and decided 'Twenty-Two' would be a good nickname for me. Not like I needed a real name, of course, like a fucking human being. But no, he called me that, and then they all caught on to it, and it was just one more thing they took from me. So when I was finished shoving my knife up his ass, I stuffed that necklace down his throat and told him to swallow like a good little bitch."

"Jesus, Shane. Just-"

"And you know what I said to him, that first night? I said, 'Rick's gonna fuckin' kill you.' I believed it, too. Fucking stupid of me, huh? To think you'd come save me. To think you'd put whatever shit there was between us on the back burner 'cuz I was in trouble, and I needed you. I'd have to be a real dumbass to think that," Shane seethes, "But Christ, once they'd heard your name they couldn't let _that_ go. It was all 'You think your friend Rick is gonna come save you?' and 'Where's Rick now, Twenty-Two?' and 'What would your buddy Rick say if he saw you crying like a bitch with a dick up your ass?' And _you_ wanna know where my fucking _necklace_ is."

"Shane, _stop_." Rick is desperate this time, Shane can hear it in his voice. But it doesn't matter.

"No!" Shane shouts, "You should have to hear it. You should have to hear every fuckin' thing they did to me. You know, I have to fight off a panic attack every time I hear your name, now? It's just a fucking name. A _word_. But I hear it and all of the sudden I can't breathe right 'cuz I'm waiting for the pain to start."

"I never wanted that!" Rick finally interjects, "I never wanted any of it. I'd take it back if I could, brother, I swear…"

"Don't call me brother."

Their eyes meet and they both stand there, chests heaving, for a few seconds.

"Shane," Rick tries again, "I'd take it back if I could. Fuck, I'd take your _place_. But I don't know how to make this right. Please, just tell me how to make this right. Or at least, how to make it better. Tell me what you need from me."

Shane's shoulders slump and his eyes hit the floor. "Need you to get out of my cell."

To his credit, Rick tries to catch Shane's gaze again. Stands there for several awkward seconds hoping Shane will offer him something else, anything else. But his former partner remains as silent as ever, so Rick turns on his heel and leaves. A half-second later, Shane does too.

He barrels out of the cell, down the mostly-empty corridor and out into the yard. He makes his way towards the gates, practically jogging, a little delirious, and smacks chest-first into Daryl.

And when Shane realizes who he's run into, he can't help it. He buries his face in Daryl's neck, clings to him like the fucking weakling he is. Shane hears Daryl drop the rabbits he's holding on the ground, feels the younger man's hands go to his sides, hesitant, soft.

"What happened?" Daryl asks him.

The answer's too complicated for Shane to delve into, so instead, he grabs Daryl's wrist and practically drags him back to their cell. Once they're safely inside, Shane pushes up against Daryl and slots their mouths together, too hard, too fast. Daryl pulls back. Holds Shane by his shoulders, manages to keep his face from betraying his worry.

"Not when you're like this," Daryl tells him after thinking on it a beat.

"Why not?" Shane asks. "I want to. This is me, now."

"It isn't," Daryl disagrees, "And I don't wanna be a distraction. Just...lay down with me a while. Please?"

"So fuckin' polite all the sudden," Shane grumbles, but he does as Daryl asks, taking his spot between the younger man and the wall and pressing his face into Daryl's chest.

"Good," Daryl murmurs, and Shane's already drifting off. "That's good."

TWDTWDTWDTWD

A few hours later, when Shane blinks awake in Daryl's arms, his head is clear again. A few seconds of burrowing into the warmth beside him and Shane realizes that Daryl never went to sleep at all, just lay there, comforting and protecting him.

"Feelin' better?" Daryl asks him. His voice rumbles against the back of Shane's neck.

"Yeah," Shane admits, "Needed that. Thanks." He turns slowly until they're nose-to-nose, lazes his eyes back and forth over Daryl's collar bone. "Sorry I, uh…"

"Don't gotta apologize," Daryl says before Shane can finish. "You were upset, I get it. Do...do you wanna tell me why?"

"Carl came by, to talk," Shane says slowly, "And after, Rick...me and him had it out. Said a whole lotta things he didn't wanna hear, 'bout what happened to me. Didn't leave things off too well."

"Were they things that you needed to say?" Daryl asks.

"Mm," Shane agrees, from low in his throat, "'But...maybe I shouldn't have said them all at once. Part of me wants to shove every last detail of it in his face, and the other feels like that's cheating, you know? Like if me and him work things out just 'cuz of what happened when I was gone, then it wouldn't be real."

Daryl nods in understanding and strokes his fingers down Shane's side. "You and Rick, you've been friends since you were kids, yeah? So if the two of you can make things alright again, I dunno if it matters why."

"I hear you. But Christ, I'm still so fucking _angry_ at him. Not sure there will ever be a time when I'm not."

"So be angry," Daryl says, "Be angry, but forgive him too. You can do both. Forgiving him doesn't mean you forgot, don't even have to mean you trust him again. It just means, you're deciding to start gettin' back to who you wanna be."

Shane hooks his thumb into Daryl's waistband, and his lips curl into a soft smile. "I will...think about it, I mean. Later."

"Later, huh? And what's it you wanna do right now?" Daryl replies.

"I'm feelin' better," Shane whispers, chin tilting up to seek out Daryl's lips.

And with one last assessing look, where Daryl eyes Shane hard enough that the older man is sure he can see right down to his soul, their mouths press together gently. Daryl pulls Shane gingerly underneath him, and is licking at the length of his neck when he murmurs, "Wanna try somethin'."

"What kinda somethin'?" Shane gasps as Daryl bites down and sucks until he's satisfied.

"Wanna do somethin' for you," Daryl says, and then, after a moment of thought, "Somethin' for both of us."

Shane is already hard, pressing up against Daryl's abs. "Ain't likely to say no right about now."

Daryl stops what he's doing and looks up at Shane. "I… I wanna suck you. Can I?"

"Christ," Shane mutters, "'Course you can. How the hell could I turn that down?"

"Had to be sure," Daryl replies a little sheepishly. "Always wanted to. And with you...been wanting to since we started this. Been wantin' it bad."

"You can have it," Shane tells him, a little breathless, as he watches Daryl shift lower and lower down his body. He doesn't go for Shane's shirt, knowing, somehow, that it's still an impasse. But when he reaches the older man's belt, and looks up for confirmation, Shane runs a hand across Daryl's cheek and nods.

Daryl's first move is to wrap his fist tightly around Shane's length. He's on his belly between Shane's legs, propped up on one elbow and staring at the older man's length with the thirsty gaze of a dying man. He squeezes, and Shane sucks in a sharp breath before letting it out roughly when Daryl loosens his grip and trails his fingers down the thick vein leading towards his balls.

Shane shudders when Daryl takes both his nuts into his hand, rolls them in his palm and watches for the other man's reaction. It feels good, better than good mainly because of just who is touching him. He's barely breathing by the time Daryl finally stops exploring with his fingers, and instead opts to lean forward and drag his tongue over the tip, tasting him.

"Fuck," Shane grunts. His eyes are wide as saucers while he watches Daryl take in the taste of him, frowning slightly at first in something like concentration, then smirking like he fucking _enjoyed_ it.

Shane fights back a loud moan when Daryl wraps his lips around his teeth, holds his gaze, and sucks the older man down as far as he can. It's not his first blow job, not by far. And the hot, slick heat is something he's certainly missed, but what Daryl's doing is so much more than that. He's enthusiastic, something Shane hasn't experienced before. Hesitant too, maybe afraid of making a mistake and being rejected.

But more than anything, Daryl is sucking him in a way that's warm, affectionate even. Daryl is lapping over the head and stroking his fingers after his lips. All of it an expression, not just an act. More than a race to the finish.

"That feels so good, Daryl," Shane makes sure to tell him, "You're so fucking good at that. Your mouth... _fuck_."

Daryl pulls off just long enough to smile at him, looking so goddamn _pleased_ with himself that Shane can't help but smile back.

"How does it taste?" Shane asks, fingers going to Daryl's hair. "Do you like it?"

"S'even better than I thought," Daryl says, blushing lightly. "Want you to come for me. Want it right down my throat. You want that?"

Daryl's mouth is back on him a half-second later, and Shane's hips buck forwards into the welcoming heat. "Yes," he groans, "I want it. Fuck, I want all of you."

Somehow, Daryl's eyes on him are the most erotic thing about the moment. They've gone cerulean dark, bright in a way Shane's never seen them before. Every so often, they flutter closed in a pleasured sort of way, only for Daryl to wrench them open, as if missing the expression on Shane's face physically pains him.

Shane moans when he realizes that Daryl is grinding down against the sheets, hard enough that it can't just be to soothe some of the ache until later.

"Fuck, you're lovin' this, aren't you?" Shane murmurs, and Daryl can only moan, driving vibrations down the length of Shane's cock that make the prone man's hips jump. He bobs his head faster, taking Shane as deep as he can, until he's practically choking with it.

There's intention in the way Daryl's mouthing at him now, and Shane has to bite back a too-loud cry when he feels himself breach the back of Daryl's throat. The younger man seems to want it so badly, hardly gagging despite the fact that his nose is nestled in the dark curls of Shane's pubes. Shane's grip on Daryl's hair tightens. He rocks up into Daryl's mouth, his _throat_ , and when the younger Dixon only moans in response, Shane does it again.

Daryl's fucking his cock into the sheets, Shane can see. And as soon as he puts together just how much the other man is getting off on this, he stops fighting back. Shane fucks Daryl's mouth hard.

"Gonna come," Shane pants, "Can't- can't hold back. Oh, fuck. _Daryl_."

Daryl swallows around Shane once. Just once, but that's all it takes for Shane to come flying apart. Every muscle in his body tenses, and then he's pouring himself down Daryl's throat with a sharp groan, waves of it pulsing through him until he's exhausted. And when Daryl sees Shane's expression fall open into clean, guiltless bliss, Daryl can't help but fall over the edge himself, bucking against the sheets with the eagerness of a teenager and moaning at the perfection of it all.

Shane lets out low, whimpery noises when Daryl continues to suckle at him afterwards, pumping him gently through the aftershocks. Shane's eyes are still on Daryl's face, and Daryl's have never left his.

"C'mere," Shane demands breathlessly, dragging Daryl up into a deep kiss as his free hand fumbles for the man's belt, "Lemme…"

But Daryl stops him, and Shane feels the blush on Daryl's face before he pulls back far enough to see it.

"No need," Daryl mutters, eyes dropping down to the space between him. "I uh...I already…"

"Seriously?" Shane asks. He kisses Daryl again, "Jesus, that's so fucking hot."

Daryl seems relieved, but only partially so. "It was alright, then?" Daryl presses, a little hesitant.

"It was fucking amazing," Shane says, "Jesus, I think it was the best head I've ever had."

Daryl scoffs and hides his face in Shane's shoulder. "Don't gotta say that."

"I'm not just saying it," Shane assures him. He reaches down and thumbs over the wet spot on Daryl's jeans, watches as the younger man shudders. "Thank you, for...I don't know. A lot, at this point. Don't know how I'd be able to deal with everything without you. Been keepin' me sane."

"Don't gotta thank me," Daryl replies, "I wanna be here. And it ain't like it's one-sided."

"Nah," Shane murmurs, smiling wide, "It ain't one-sided at all."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Early one morning, when Daryl figures Rick will be hard at work on the garden, he relieves Beth of her babysitting duties and herds Shane down over to Rick's cell to finally meet Lil' Asskicker.

"Here," Daryl says gruffly, plunking Judy into Shane's outstretched arms. "I got work to do, and Beth's fuckin' exhausted. You take her for a while."

Shane stares at the baby in his arms with wide eyes. "I don't think Rick would want…"

"To hell with him," Daryl says, "He doesn't get a say when he ain't exactly in here watchin' her either."

Daryl is out the door a half-second later, leaving Shane floundering with a gurgling, happy Judith in his arms. Eventually, he recovers. He picks up the half-full bottle of formula propped up in her crib and offers it to her, chuckling in surprise when she grabs at it with her chubby little hands.

"There you go," Shane says softly, "I'm not so bad, huh? Just the guy with the bottle."

The nipple of the bottle comes out of her mouth with a pop, and Judy babbles something cheerful sounding at him, accompanying it with a gummy smile.

"Ba," Judy tells him.

Shane can't help it. He smiles back. "That's right. Ba."

He leans back against the wall with Judy in his lap, lets her shake the mostly-empty bottle up and down, frothing up the remaining formula. It reminds him of the first time Lori and Rick had entrusted him with Carl's care, shoving the screaming baby at him so they could get some much-needed sleep. At the time, he'd been terrified. He'd held Carl a handful of times since they brought him home, but never unsupervised. Babies weren't really his thing.

A few hours later, when Lori and Rick emerged from their room to find Carl fast asleep in his arms, he remembers the look on Lori's face. Her eyes had watered, lips quirked in a grateful smile. She hadn't needed to say thank you. Rick hadn't, either. Not when he plopped down beside Shane on the couch and pressed into his friend's side with no sense of personal space.

Now, Shane doesn't feel panic over having Judy in his arms. He settles on calling it a mix of nostalgia, love, and regret. Nostalgia for the life he used to have, with easy decisions and friends who trusted him implicitly. Love for the little girl in his arms, already, without any thought to it, because she was just so goddamn _perfect_. And regret, because he hadn't been here to see her born. Because he hadn't fought his way back to her in time to make a difference. Because he hadn't saved Lori, for her or for Carl.

Just outside the cell, Daryl leans against the cool, grey concrete and listens to Judy babble away at Shane. He'd wanted to give them some privacy, but he knew better than to go far. He sees Rick walking down the hall from the opposite end of the block and heads him off before he's within earshot.

"Hey," Daryl says.

"Mornin'," Rick replies, "Weather's gone to shit. Ain't gonna be much huntin' or gardenin' today."

"That's fine," Daryl says, "You ought to go have a proper meal for once."

"I was on my way," Rick says, "Just figured I'd pick up Judy first. Give Beth a rest."

Daryl takes a deep breath and says, "I already did. Told Beth to go get some sleep, since she was up all night, and passed Judy off to Shane for a while."

"You…" Rick's expression darkens, but Daryl cuts him off.

"He deserves to know her," Daryl says, "He does, Rick. This ain't about deciding who her real Daddy is, 'cuz she's your daughter and Shane knows that. But all of us here, we're family. Your words. And that means Shane and Judy are family too."

"I still…" Rick lets out a ragged sigh. "I'm still not sure I can trust him. Or forget."

"No one's asking you to, man. But right now, Judy and Carl are the only connection Shane's got left to Lori. And to _you_. He needs that."

Rick drags a hand through his hair, then nods jerkily. "Alright. But someone else needs to be there. At least...for now."

"I can make that happen," Daryl agrees easily. "He's in with her now. You can wait with me, if you want." He dips his head to force eye contact, the way he's seen Rick do dozens of times, and knows he has the other man caught.

Daryl doesn't bother to wait for his answer before padding quietly back towards Rick's cell, and situating himself against the wall, just around the corner. Rick comes to meet him, and together, they slide down onto their asses and listen to Judy's chatter from the other room.

"Ba," Judy tells Shane, all bright eyes and smiles. "Ba ba."

"Yeah, I hear you," Shane says, taking the time to comb his fingers through her peachy hair. "You look just like her, you know that? Thought maybe that'd make it harder, but it's good. Something about her's still here. And...and Christ, she was a hell of a lot better looking than me or Rick anyways."

Judy answers him with an enthusiastic _ba ba ba_ , then fists her hands in his shirt.

"I'm sorry, kid," Shane murmurs after a long pause. "I should have been there. Should have been here, protecting you, like I promised your Mom I would. And...I'm sorry I had to forget about you for a while. It wasn't that I wanted to. It's just what I had to do to survive. Thinking about you, thinking about all the things I was missing and the life I used to have, it made it so much worse. Getting through each day alive- maybe even halfway sane, that was the important thing. And I couldn't do it if I was worrying about you, or your Mom and Dad, or Carl. I had to be someone else, for a while. Wasn't sure I'd be able to come back."

Shane's voice is low and soothing, and he can see the energy in Judy's face slowly fading. She slumps forward against his chest, and he cradles her there delicately, listening hard for the raspy sounds of her relaxed breaths.

"I won't leave you again," Shane promises her, "I didn't want to go away, but I'm back now, and I'm going to make myself alright. Better than alright. I'll make myself anything you need me to be. Won't ever let you get hurt. I swear it."

From inside the cell, Shane and Judy both go quiet. And awhile later, after the storm has passed, Rick shoots a meaningful nod Daryl's way then heads back outside with Carl in tow. Daryl creeps into the cell and finds both occupants out like a light. Even in his sleep, the muscles of Shane's arms are tensed around Judy's small form, a cage of flesh to shelter her from the world.

It's right then that Daryl decides he's ready for Shane to fuck him.

Daryl surprises himself with the thought, but it's less of a revelation than he'd expected. Somehow, every moment they'd spent together since Shane returned had been leading to this exact moment. Every shared meal, every brief touch. The trust had built and built, attraction trotting along right after, until there was no remaining doubts in Daryl's mind.

He wants this. He wants to trust someone enough to let them close, inside, and he wants Shane to be that person.

Daryl digs himself out a spot on the opposite side of the bunk, settles in, and waits for Shane and Judy to return to the waking world.

TWDTWDTWDTWD

If there was one thing Daryl had gleaned from TV and his classmates about losing your virginity, it was that it had to be special. It wasn't really a _first_ time for either of them, not in a classical sense at least. But it was Daryl's first time with a man, and Shane's first time attempting the act he'd been forced into for months on end.

Daryl isn't entirely sure if Shane will even _want_ this with him. Maybe it will bring up too many bad memories. Or maybe he doesn't feel that way about Daryl at all, isn't interested in expressing their mutual attraction that way. Maybe it is too soon for any relationship to take that turn, let alone after the shit Shane went through.

He can't predict how Shane will react. But it feels right, so Daryl knows his mind and body will not rest until he's at least broached the subject. The prospect of rejection looms just out of focus, like a shadow of a monster caught in your periphery.

Daryl manages to wait exactly six hours before it bubbles out of him like water from a boiling pot. They're in bed together, Shane propped above him, kissing slowly.

Pulling back, Daryl asks, "You fucked around with some guys before me, right?"

"A couple," Shane says, "Never told Rick. Only person who knew was Lori, and it took six shots of whiskey after Rick went into a coma to get that out of me. She was fuckin' devestated, ya know? Completely sure that Rick got shot thinkin' he hated her. And the whole thing was my damn fault- didn't see the third shooter in time- so she sent Carl to a friend's and we sat up drinking for hours, airing it all out."

"You know him getting shot wasn't on you," Daryl counters.

"I guess I do now. But at the time...I kept thinking that if I'd just seen that asshole sooner… But hell, seems like a decade ago, now. Lori told me then that it wasn't on me. And sometime after that, I told her about the couple of guys I'd picked up over the years."

"So it was just two?"

"Might have been three. There was one night I didn't end up remembering too well. Woke up alone, but last thing I remembered was being on some guy at the club like white on rice. So, coulda been three, I reckon."

"Did you like it?"

Shane licks his lips and narrows his eyes at Daryl, trying to follow where this might be going. "'Course I did. But not nearly as much as I like me and you. Thought you got this, man, I _want_ you."

"I know you do," Daryl says quickly. "Want you too. That's...that's kinda why I'm askin'. Those guys, what did you do with them?"

"Fucked 'em," Shane replies with a shrug.

Daryl's voice is shakey when he asks, "Do you think you'd wanna do that with me?"

The playful look on Shane's face falls in an instant, and he pushes himself up into a sitting position.

"Shit. I- I- I won't ask again. I swear I won't ask about it again, okay? I"m sorry-"

"Daryl, stop," Shane says. His voice is low and soothing, not the angry outburst Daryl had expected. "I'm not going anywhere, not angry. But I need you to be real specific about what you're asking for here."

Bottom lip swollen and red from being bit too long, Daryl looks Shane in the eye and says, "Want you to fuck me."

Shane sucks in a sharp breath, and Daryl flinches.

"Told you, I won't ask again-"

"Why?"

Daryl blinks at him. "Why?"

"Yes, why."

"You can say no."

"I'm not saying no. But tell me why."

"Ain't wanting it enough?"

"Not if you're wanting it for the wrong reasons. I'm not saying no, Daryl. But I need to know where your head's at. So explain it to me."

Daryl pulls one of his knees up into his chest. "People always act like sex is the most important thing, like a good lay could cure your goddamn cancer. But it was never like that for me. Most of the girls I was with, I don't even remember. It wasn't…good. Sure as hell didn't trust them like I trust you. And you trust me?"

"I do," Shane says.

"Yeah," Daryl smiles at him, but it's a fleeting thing. "That's what's gonna make it different. Trusting someone enough to let them...inside...I've never felt like that. But I feel it now. I _want_ it now. There was so much shit growing up that I didn't get to have, but Shane, I want this. Not unless you do, too, and not unless it's _right_ , but I want it."

Shane nods slowly, then takes Daryl hand and says, "We prep for as long as I say."

Daryl's whole face lights up. "Of course man, whatever you want."

"I can't hurt you. If- If I even think I _might_ be, I won't be able to-"

"You'd never hurt me," Daryl says. "I trust you. And, it's not supposed to hurt...right?"

Shane brings Daryl's hand into his lap and runs a finger of his knuckles. "It's supposed to feel good."

"Then it will. I know it will, because everything else with you and me has."

Shane's eyes, chestnut brown and wide, can't seem to leave Daryl's face.

"You tell me as soon as you need to stop. Or slow, down. Anything."

"I will," Daryl promises, a little breathless, "I swear I will."

"Should take everything off, then," Shane says almost conversationally, and there's that glint in his eye again. "They'll only get in the way."

While Daryl struggles to pop open the buttons of his shirt and shove his jeans down past his ankles, Shane sheds his cargoes and fingers the top button of his shirt.

"Don't have to," Daryl says.

"Yeah, I do," Shane says, and finally shrugs out of his shirt. "What me and you are gonna do, it's about trust. If I can't trust you with this, I sure as shit don't deserve to be inside you. Just...don't touch 'em. Not yet, at least."

Daryl nods his understanding and lets Shane guide him down onto his back, legs spread to leave him open and on display.

"You ever try it on your own?"

"No."

Shane smiles at him. "I'll make it good," he says, before dropping down onto his stomach and burying his face down where the skin was rosy and untouched.

All the breath in Daryl's lungs comes pouring out of him with the first touch of Shane's tongue. Daryl doesn't know much about what Shane apparently intends to do to him. He's seen snippets of it in porn, photos in magazines that he'd damn well _burned_ after reading. But Daryl has always assumed it was an act, something that looked good on film but didn't translate to real life.

He is so fucking wrong.

Shane laps at him slowly, and Daryl keens. He'd figured the actual fucking part would feel good- it kind of had to, when so many men willingly opened themselves up to this kind of thing- but this is something else entirely. Nerves Daryl had never known existed are alight and tingling with pleasure, and Shane's tongue doesn't seem to _end_ anywhere, and Christ, Daryl can't breathe.

"You like that?" Shane asks him, and he seems honest to god nervous, which makes Daryl's chest ache.

"Yeah," Daryl assures him readily, "Yeah, don't stop. Feels good. Didn't know-"

He has to cut himself off when Shane's tongue abruptly breaches him, twisting inside and jabbing slow and deep until he's sloppy wet.

"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck," Daryl babbles, and it seems to be exactly what Shane needs to hear because he can feel the older man smile against him, proud that he could give Daryl this.

Shane keeps at it until Daryl is open and dripping wet, sobbing out Shane's name with every other breath.

"Still okay?" Shane asks him. He presses a chaste kiss to the inside of Daryl's thigh.

" _Yes_ ," Daryl lets out in a rush, "Want you inside me. Fuck, Shane, I need it."

"Not yet," Shane murmurs, "Gotta prep you some more. With my fingers. You got any slick?"

Daryl nods and moves on wobbling limbs to reach under the bed for the small bottle he'd brought back on a run weeks ago. He hands it to Shane, and the ex-officer leans forward to press their lips together.

"Keep talking to me," Shane says, "Need to make sure I can hear your voice. Like...like the first time."

"You won't hurt me," Daryl tells him again, and opens his legs a little wider for Shane to settle in between them. He watches with hooded eyes as Shane slicks up one finger, then presses it slowly into him.

"Good?" Shane asks.

Daryl comes up on his elbows to watch the place where Shane's finger disappears. It doesn't hurt, not even a slight burn after having Shane's tongue so thoroughly inside him, but it's still strange. Strange to have something foreign inside of him, something inside of him at all after last nearly four decades without ever so much as considering this moment.

"It's weird," Daryl settles on saying. "Doesn't hurt," he adds.

Shane thrusts his finger into Daryl until he's satisfied, then asks, "Another?"

Daryl nods, and let out a startled grunt when another finger pushes inside. It's a tighter fit than before, and stings a little at first. But then Shane crooks his fingers and finds a spot inside of him that makes Daryl release a sudden, desperate groan.

"Jesus," Daryl moans. He throws an arm over his face and bites hard into the flesh there to try to stifle the noises bursting out of him. "What...what is that? Fuck…"

Shane murmurs something along the lines of "state vacation," which makes no fucking sense, but Daryl can't really hear him between the noises bursting out of his chest and the blood pounding in his ears. And Shane just keeps rubbing against that spot, prodding it again and again and making Daryl's cock twitch and leak against his navel.

"More, more," Daryl's begging before he realizes the words are escaping him, "God, Shane. I want more. I need more."

"Shh," Shane soothes, "It's alright. I'm gonna give it to you."

And then there's a third finger inside of him and Daryl throws his head back as a shudder rips its way through him. It's almost too much to feel at once, but at the same time, Daryl is greedy for it. He wants everything Shane can give him, to feel their bodies slot together like two pieces of a puzzle. Daryl wants all the things he's denied himself since he knew what his dick was for, and he wants Shane to give them to him.

"Shane, please," Daryl moans. Blue eyes catch brown and hold there for several long moments, until Shane slides his fingers out of him. Shane's eyes are dark with arousal, but his free hand is shaking against Daryl's hip. Daryl places his own over Shane's and gives him a light squeeze. He'll never pressure Shane into this, let alone force him. "We don't have to," Daryl says, "I think...think I could come just from your fingers. We don't have to do more than that."

"But you want to," Shane whispers, his eyes on Daryl's flushed cock.

"Only if you do too."

Shane slowly drags his gaze up Daryl's body and to his face. His jaw is set, determined, even when his fingers continue to twitch and quiver with anxiety.

"I want it,' Shane asserts, "Just as much as you do. A good memory to replace the bad ones."

"Won't be just one good memory, if I have any say," Daryl rasps. "Shane, please don't make me wait anymore."

"Alright," Shane says, and kisses him again, slowly. "Alright."

He hitches Daryl's hips up off the bed and presses inside. Shane's never been frightened before, doing something like this, so anxious and raw. Even his first time, he'd been more excited than nervous, smiling the whole time at how lucky he was and how good it felt. Now, it still feels good. That much hasn't changed, and Shane is glad for it. But the prospect of becoming anything like the men who'd tormented him is so real and present that Shane can't help but let out a shaky whimper once his hips are flush with Daryl's ass.

"It doesn't hurt," Daryl tells him, and they both know it's the truth. Daryl feels full and warm, close to overwhelmed, but there's no pain. Just the feel of Shane so fucking close to him, over him and inside him, the most intimate thing two people could do. "It's good," Daryl adds, "You feel good."

Shane lets out a slow breath through his nose, and leans forward to press their lips together in a lingering kiss.

"C'mon," Daryl urges gently, "I want more. Want you to show me what I've been missing."

Shane smiles at him and presses their foreheads together. "I can do that."

Shane moves. He starts slower than slow, easing in and out of Daryl like he's afraid the man will break. But when Daryl starts to make needy, desperate noises underneath him, clawing at the backs of Shane's thighs, the older man takes the hint. He starts to move faster- shallow, forceful thrusts that massage the head of his cock over Daryl's prostate with pinpoint accuracy. Daryl moans and writhes against him, cock so hard that Shane can see it throb each time he hits home. With a glazed expression, Shane watches Daryl's cock twitch and leak in an endless pattern, distantly hears him chanting Shane's name, moaning it until it echoes out into the cell block.

"It's so good, Shane," Daryl groans, "Fuck. It's so good. I can't-"

"Tell me again that you want this," Shane begs, and Daryl doesn't hesitate.

"I want this," Daryl says, "Christ, it's everything I wanted. So much better than I thought. Didn't know anything could feel this way...fuck, I'm not gonna last. I'm not gonna last, Shane, it's too good."

With that, Shane wraps a hand around Daryl's neglected length and begins to roll his hips in the same fevered motion of his fist.

"I believe you," Shane groans, "Fuck, I believe you. Show me how much you love it, now, Daryl. Show me."

Shane twists the palm of his hand around the slick head of Daryl's cock at the same time that he shoves up against Daryl's prostate, hard. Daryl's vision whites out.

"Shane!"

His body explodes from the inside out, and all at once, Daryl is soaking Shane's hand with come. It splatters up his chest, a few specks making it to his neck. He clenches down hard around Shane, as if he could keep the man inside him forever, and feels the exact moment when Shane stills and follows him over the edge, sobbing into Daryl's neck while he pulses wave after wave of pleasure into Daryl's hot, tight body.

They're both panting after, sweaty and sated. Shane's mouth is buried in his skin, and Daryl can hear him trying to speak, but the words are garbled and broken. It takes a few minutes before Daryl realizes there's new wetness against his collarbone.

He eases Shane over until they're facing each other, and with the other man's mouth free, Daryl can finally understand him.

"...thank you. Thank you, thank you, God, Daryl…"

Daryl doesn't say anything in return. Just gathers Shane into his chest, tucks him tight under his chin and listens. What comes out are broken-off sentences and half-formed fears, things Shane has never quite managed to say.

"Never thought I'd get to have this again…"

"...they told me, told me I'd be worthless, that no one would ever want…"

"...don't get how you can want me, when I'm…"

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

Daryl keeps listening until Shane goes quiet. Once Shane's breathing has evened into something slow and deep, Daryl speaks.

"You're everything I want. Don't want you doubting that. I went so long without...and I didn't know what I was missing. I get it, now. So I don't want you thanking me. 'Cuz you gave me a hell of a lot more than I'll ever be able to give you."

A companionable silence settles over them, and Shane reaches a hand up to rub the remaining dampness of his face.

"Maybe we oughta call it a tie, then," Shane says. And when Daryl snorts out a surprised laugh, Shane follows him into a quiet fit of giggles.

Like that, it's easy again. Shane doesn't have to apologize, and Daryl doesn't have to tell him again that he wants everything Shane's willing to give him.

"We can do that again," Shane murmurs into Daryl's chest as he falls asleep, "Whenever you want."

"That's good," Daryl says quietly, "'Cuz I'm thinkin' next time I'll try ridin' you."

He hears Shane suck in a sharp breath, and feels the other man's cock twitch at the thought. It's enough of a reassurance for Daryl to slip into an easy sleep.


End file.
